


The Journal of Sebastian Vael

by cullenlovesmen



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1930s, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Bisexual Male Character, Bottom Sebastian, Diary/Journal, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Heartbreak, Implied Sexual Content, Inspired by Fanfiction, Loneliness, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mostly Gen, No F/M Sex, Prequel, Religious Content, Unhappy Ending, Were-Creatures, implied group sex, no magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:34:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23988193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cullenlovesmen/pseuds/cullenlovesmen
Summary: I am Sebastian Vael, the youngest of three brothers, and a menace to my parents. I am twenty-two years old and live on an island, near a village so small its name is barely worth mentioning, and in a house so large that I ought to feel ashamed of myself. I don't belong to anyone, and nobody belongs to me. I am much like other young men of my age, but the ways I differ from them are just as numerous.
Relationships: Sebastian Vael/Original Female Character(s), Sebastian Vael/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	The Journal of Sebastian Vael

**Author's Note:**

  * For [McLavellan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/McLavellan/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Woodcutter](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18238361) by [McLavellan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/McLavellan/pseuds/McLavellan). 



> Note! This is a prequel to [The Woodcutter](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18238361/chapters/43152485), but this story contains spoilers for the main fic. Please read McLavellan's fic before this one, or you'll get spoiled for certain. :) 
> 
> Another warning: this is not a happy fic with a happy ending. The Woodcutter includes the happy ending this one lacks! 
> 
> Also, this is my first venture into F/M, though that particular romance is quite PG-13. 
> 
> Now that the warnings are done with, I hope you'll enjoy this diary fic! It was a lot of fun to write.

**1st of August, 1934**

I am Sebastian Vael, the youngest of three brothers, and a menace to my parents. I am twenty-two years old and live on an island, near a village so small its name is barely worth mentioning, and in a house so large that I ought to feel ashamed of myself. I don't belong to anyone, and nobody belongs to me. I am much like other young men of my age, but the ways I differ from them are just as numerous. 

My family and I are what local folklore refers to as Wulvers - half-bred creatures between man and wolf, capable of transformation at will - and we are the last of our kind. Stories of us are gruesome and violent, but in actuality we are much less brutal than the legends would have you believe. We feel emotions strongly, be they positive or negative, and therefore our love is fierce and our wrath beyond measure. This is my greatest secret, but still only one of many. 

There are things I will take to my grave, but you, my new journal, shall bear the burden of being my sole confidant as I document the hidden aspects of my life. There have been many before you, and all of them are safely tucked away in a place others won’t find them, waiting for me to return to them and remind me of things long forgotten. You will join them one day, but before you do, let us be as close as friends.

You must think me a romantic fool. You are correct to assume so.

**3rd of August, 1934**

They call me a wild child, my friend, but they don't see what motivates me to do what I do - my actions, as nefarious as they may seem, spring from a need my family cannot fulfill. I am unloved. It has been years since Mother hugged me or Father gazed upon me in approval, and my brothers prefer to keep to themselves - they are a boring pair that deserve each other for company. 

They think me wicked because I have a yearning - I need touch, I need the softness of another's hands upon me, for it is in those moments that I feel alive. It is only then I feel visible - and it is only then I forget the misery of my home and the hopelessness of my situation. I cannot apologise for being desperate in my hunger, for it's not in my power to take what I really need.

I am disallowed to visit the village closest to us, for there be some old grudges between the villagers and my family, but when night falls, I sneak outside and roam the island - and sometimes I walk to the village. It is there that I most often find what I need: strong arms that want to hold me, and lips that long to kiss me. You would imagine it difficult, my confidant, but it really isn’t. I’m told I’m attractive and I know how to harness that to my power. It surely cannot be wrong of me to do so - whom am I hurting? 

**6th of August, 1934**

Interesting times are upon us, my friend, for I have just returned from a walk about our estate and it seems Father has hired us a new farmhand. After having talked with the man briefly, I am fairly convinced that I should like to do so again. His name evades me, for I need to hear it more than once so I can commit it to memory — but my confidant! He is handsome and tall, the very picture of optimal manhood, and his smile is so wide and teeth so white. 

I believe I shall seek his company as soon as I have the flimsiest excuse to do so; the village and its dockhands and sailors may await while I unravel the mystery of our new hireling. 

**12th of August, 1934**

My confidant! There is fury inside of me that I can’t seem to temper no matter what I do, nor how far I travel from the source of it. My journey from the island to the mainland was quick and uneventful, and the train ride to the city went well enough, and yet I fumed and despaired the whole way here. 

It’s not every day your family casts you aside like a disgrace and sends you to fend for yourself in a world you’re wholly unequipped to handle, not a lupine soul in sight. 

And what saddens me more than anything is that my crime was just a tumble, not unlike ones I’ve indulged in before - but this time I was caught with my breeches down, the new farmhand behind me. I thought I had been discreet, but I suppose the day had to come when I would be found out.

What Father doesn’t understand is that I’m not a fool; I have never bedded a woman, and I’ve never risked an unwanted bond. There’s no chance of me bringing a bastard to the family, but logic evades the old man, so here I am: university of the big city, branch of theological studies. How he managed to secure me a place on such short notice is a mystery, but he made it very clear that this is where I am to spend the next few years, and should I defy him, I would have no home to return to. 

I am unsure if it’s anger or fear that prevails in me at this moment - I can hardly contain neither of these feelings, and yet I must try. 

**23rd of August, 1934**

I have always been a bad son, and I suppose I can admit that to myself now. Today I went to hear a guest lecturer, and when he told us the story of Cain and Abel, I found that many of Cain’s flaws applied to me, too. I’ve been jealous of my brothers, who never did anything to warrant Father’s ire, and yet I expected him to treat me as he treats them while I did nothing to earn his acceptance.

I know this now, but acknowledging the error of my ways and changing how I behave are two different things. With the Lord’s help I may be able to truly learn this lesson. 

**24th of August, 1934**

My journal, you are the only one I can confide in about these matters, so I shall write these memories down while they are still fresh on my mind. 

I cannot deny that my soul is of that of a wolf. I am an animal made human, and I can never conform to human ways alone, and so I must believe there’s a way the Lord can overlook some of the failings my unique nature causes. 

Tonight I was studying in the library, and Jack, a student from my class, happened to be there as well. I invited him to join me at my table, and for the first time we had a discussion that wasn’t hurried or forced - he’s avoided me since we first met, but I’ve known what that was brought on by. You can call it lupine instinct, if you like. 

It wasn’t long before I had him in my room, his sweaty body on mine as I lay on my stomach in this very bed. It wasn’t gentle or romantic - quite the contrary - but it was almost satisfying, pleasant, and something I had been deprived of for too long. The temptation to turn around and take him was there, but I could tell by his scent that it would have been a great mistake. 

May the Lord forgive my trespasses, but may he also remember that it was he who made me this way. To ask me to resist is to ask a cat to live on grass alone.

**15th of September, 1934**

Forgive me, for I’ve not had much time for the idle pleasure of documenting my days. I am expected an essay by the 20th and the topic given to me is anything but inspiring. But let us speak of more interesting matters, for I have no desire to explain to you the complexities behind the Corinthian Letters. 

While you have laid hidden beneath my mattress, I have become an adopted member of a group of young men my friend Jack belongs to, and much of my free time has been spent in sleazy pubs and public parks, our jolly evenings often ending with disgruntled policemen shooing us back into our dormitories. 

I confess, I did not know to expect this much of enjoyment during my time in the city. The stories Father told of his university years were all dull and perfectly proper, and I’m beginning to think he might have falsified them. 

But on the other hand, would he have sent me here had be known I would be set loose?

**27th of September, 1934**

Yesterday I received a letter from Mother: Grandfather has fallen ill and I am to travel to the island at my earliest convenience. I am in the ship as I’m writing this, and my handwriting isn’t at its most eloquent - I do hope I can make sense of it later. This is an important entry, as it might turn out to be the last one I write while Grandfather still lives, and I’m certain I should like to read it again and again as I grieve.

The nature of Grandfather’s illness wasn’t made known to me by the letter, and I cannot help but wonder whether it is a lupine type of an ailment Mother couldn’t risk to describe in writing. I will not lie to you, my only confidant - I am concerned by what shape I will find him in and I can only pray I won’t be too late to arrive. Should he perish now, I do not know who will stand by my side and defend me. 

**30th of September, 1934**

Grandfather lives, may the Lord be praised! He is very weak and looks so small in his bed - a sight I’m wholly unaccustomed to seeing. He was such a robust man prior to his illness (the doctor doesn’t know what it is!), with a large presence and even larger a form. I don't quite know how to speak to him now - I feel at loss upon seeing him like his - but I sit at his bedside, reciting lies about my new life in the city. He is my greatest ally, but I know better than to break his heart at a time like this.

As for other matters, I have been back at home for less than two days, and already Father and I are quarrelling. He provokes me at every turn, trying to conform me to his rigid ways, but I am as unyielding as I have ever been. Last night I stormed off from the dinner table, stealing to the nearby forest in wolf form, sorely in need of fresh air and the feeling of raindrops on my fur.

I came across a cabin in the woods that I had never before encountered, and I could have sworn it hadn’t been there before, but it was old if its appearance was anything to go by, and a grey-haired lady sat by its entrance. She saw me in my true form and smiled. I still feel uneasy just thinking about it. 

Mother says nobody lives in the forest and that I’m telling fanciful stories to amuse my brothers, but my confidant, you have to believe me - she was real! 

**18th of October, 1934**

It has been so long since we have last conspired, my friend, and I feel as though I should apologise. A great many things have happened and I’ve been struggling to put my thoughts into words, but it feels like tonight I could try. 

I have returned to the city with my heart heavy, for Grandfather is gone now. It has been a week since we buried him, and there’s little I’ve done but prayed for his soul. Does the Lord look upon my kind the same way He looks upon His human children? Will He call upon Grandfather to enter His kingdom when the judgement day comes, just as He will call upon His loyal human children? 

I must believe that He loves all of His creations, even if my kind were His only mistake. Tell me, my confidant, do you not think it fair to judge a soul upon its goodness, and not by its image? 

**18th of October, 1934**

I had every intention of leaving my last entry to be the last one for today. It reads so elegantly, don’t you think? But I am a fraud, my friend. All that I wrote is true, but I left out a thought that makes me look selfish and juvenile. If only I could shake it off my mind and let you rest for the night, but I doubt these tears will stop falling before I’ve written down their true cause: I am alone.

In fact, I have always been alone, but now I have lost the only friend I have ever had. With Grandfather at the Lord’s side, who is there to love me? To whom will I belong to?

I tested my love for Jack: I turned to wolf form in the safety of my room and looked in the mirror. My eyes were as yellow as they had ever been - not a sliver of his green stared back at me. 

At this point I should explain that my wolven form will take on the same eyes as the person I love. Not a soul alive knows why it works the way it does, but it’s the truth, and I don’t question it after having seen it happen. 

I am alone, my confidant, with nobody to love me but you, and even you are just a reflection of myself. You belong to me, but I cannot belong to you.

**22nd of October, 1934**

It wasn’t like this before; I could have whomever I pleased and there would be no complications, no consequences to consider. But now I find myself in a situation where everything depends on what I do next. The knowledge that I don’t love Jack pains me, but if I were to leave him, I would surely be cast out of the group. 

It was so easy here at first, so careless and free, but I’ve come to realise that the only way I can truly be free is by being alone. But is freedom worth sacrificing companionship for? Friendship, if I can call it that? Does freedom even matter, and what is its value in comparison to laughter? 

I am beginning to understand what it means when people older than myself lament about life being hard. My difficulties, aside from the ongoing conflict with my father, pale in the face of love’s complexity - and I don't even know what true love is like. It is on nights like this that I wish I could transform and roam the forests again, the winds from the sea sweeping my mind clean of burdens I am unequipped to carry. 

But alas, I will sit facing Jack tomorrow morning, smiling at him over breakfast, my door open for him after the curfew bells will have rung. I am a coward and a liar, my confidant, but I don’t know what else I am to do - I want a place for myself, and I feel like I should settle for an ill-fitting one rather than doom myself to crippling solitude.

**25th of October, 1934**

I have discovered a small batch of forest a stone’s throw away from the campus. It is less than ideal, but on some nights I walk there and merely sit on a large stone I’ve made my secret base, listening to the blessed silence of the night. I think about Jack, and then I think about my grandfather, and my friend, to you I’m not ashamed to confess that I think about myself a great deal as well. I wonder at the unpredictability of my nature, how easy it is for me to gain conviction only to lose it mere days later. I thought I would truly attempt to be a better son, but upon setting my eyes on Father, such noble pursuits were the last thing on my mind.

There are days when I think of leaving Jack, and I’m convinced I will do it the next morning before our lectures begin, for I believe him to be quite taken with me, and the longer I wait, the more my betrayal will hurt him. But then I awaken and my throat wells up in horror at the thought of being alone again — invisible again.

And then I think of how alone I already am; my friends are my friends only because they don’t know me to be a beast, and they certainly do not know what goes on between Jack and I behind closed doors. I have asked for guidance of the Lord, but His silence, I believe, is a sign that I ought to untangle these affairs on my own. If only there was comfort in that knowledge. 

**2nd of November, 1934**

It was with a heavy heart I said my goodbyes to Jack. It was in this very room that he heard the words I can never take back, and cannot honestly regret. He lent me no tears nor anger - he merely nodded and left. 

How is it that I feel as though I was the one left behind? Am I truly self-centred enough to want others broken by my dismissal? Every word out of my mouth tonight was honest, and yet it seems like the truth was cheap. How is it that I am the one that feels used, when it was I using the other? I did not expect my company to be so worthless to him. 

I have written home and pleaded to return, but I fear Father will not deem me changed enough to come back yet. I await his response anxiously regardless; perhaps he’ll see how miserable I am here and finally give me the mercy I believe I’m due. Mother cannot be consulted on this; her opinions are never her own. 

It hasn’t been long, my confidant, since I last shed tears onto your white pages, and I’m regretful that I must put you through it again, but surely you will find it in yourself to forgive a close friend?

**7th of November, 1934**

Ah, what have I done! In a moment of wretched weakness I succumbed to such depravities that I cannot in good conscience relate even to you, my only friend. I talk of being alone, but that is the loneliness of the soul, and not of the body; there are a great many people I encounter every day, with whom I exchange little pleasantries and engage in meaningless chatter, but last night I accepted to accompany a fellow student to a party. 

The others in the room were previously unfamiliar to me, and they were not, indeed, here to study theology. 

My confidant, how weak I was! How strong was my urge to turn and reveal myself. I did nothing of the kind, as I’m sure you can imagine, but my actions were deplorable nevertheless - and you understand that I do not use that word lightly. 

But touch - what is more important than touch? I can breathe, eat, and sleep, but if I cannot have touch, my life is without meaning. I can only pray that I will find wiser ways to acquire it, for what happened can never again take place - the Lord’s patience with me has been thoroughly tested, I am certain.

**1st of December, 1934**

I have finally heard from my father and the content of the letter was what I expected; I am allowed to return to spend Christmas with my family, but I must also return to the city once the holidays are over. I expected to feel sad upon learning this, but the emotion that prevails is resignation - despite all the misery this room has seen, it has started to feel like something of my own. I don’t belong to it, nor does it belong to me, but if I close my eyes and try very hard, I can imagine it my nest.

The last I spoke with you, I was remorseful of an evening that took an unexpected turn - or several of them - and I am pleased to tell you that it seems I have finally learnt a lesson. I have been dutiful with my studies and even found myself reading Bible passages during my leisure hours. I believe I’m starting to understand the advice the Lord’s Word offers, and I am trying to find comfort in the wisdom He bestowed upon His scribes. 

I have never lacked faith in Him, but our relationship has been distant, and perhaps I’m ready to rectify that.

**18th of December, 1934**

Dear friend, I am once again writing to you while at sea. The winds are strong and the waves swell under our ship, but I am surprisingly well at ease with the harsh conditions of my journey - I have missed sea air. The city resides by the coast, but her scents are those of factories and cars, and the few trees that line our campus cannot prevail through the stink of the modern world. 

You may have guessed I am travelling home for the holidays. I am to spend three weeks in my beloved island, and nothing could kill my joy of reuniting with her vast fields and gloomy forests. I have not risked a transformation since I tested my eyes more than a month ago, and oh, how I yearn to run free across the rocky shores of my island! How I yearn to put my bare feet onto the soil that I belong to!

Seeing Father again feels like nothing more than an afterthought as I’m writing this. I pray the Lord for strength to rein in my temper should it be tested, and serenity to face him and think nothing of his refusal to house me permanently. 

**21st of December, 1934**

I ran into the forest last night, my confidant - the same batch of woods I roamed the last I was here, and would you believe me if I told you I found the cabin again? Its occupant sat on its withered terrace, watching as I shuffled through the trees, careful not to make a sound. What alerted her to my presence, I wonder? I was in no rush to leave, for I had been smart enough not to assume wolf form in fear of crossing paths with her again. 

She hollered at me and I couldn’t pretend not to hear, so I crossed the yard to meet her, and she invited me to have tea with her. I do not, even now, know what made me accept her offer, but I did, and we talked in depth of the island’s history. As the evening progressed, an uneasy feeling grew within me; it felt as though she was eternal, her knowledge based on first-hand experience instead of rigorous study. The walls of her home were lined with books, but many of them were written in languages I could not recognise, and the subjects of the ones I could read were grotesque or unusual. 

It was with odd satisfaction that she looked at me when I was taking my leave, a clever glint to her eyes as she said her parting words: “Do remember me when you are the Master of the house.”

Her words set a cold stone in my stomach, even knowing they must have been brought on by old age. She could have mistaken me for my eldest brother, too, now that I think of it.

**26th of December, 1934**

Christmas has passed quite uneventfully; I have weathered Father’s insults and provocations, much to my own surprise and to Mother’s pleasure. It helps that I have you here with me, old friend, for your pages bear the reminder of my conviction to be patient and kind, even when such treatment isn’t afforded to me.

I strolled the mansion yards today, stopping by the farm, and found the worker who had last tempted me. I had been sure Father had let go of him, but I was pleased to discover I had been mistaken — even if it meant that Father would rather suffer letting go of a son than a valuable farmhand. My confidant, I may sound noble, but I will not lie to you; temptation got the best of me again, but I cannot genuinely regret the encounter. How am I to be fulfilled when the people around me avoid me as though I was diseased? Tell me, how can they expect me to deny the comfort of strong arms and warm skin? 

I seek forgiveness… no, I seek understanding from the Lord, for I am not hurting anyone with my missteps.

**30th of January, 1935**

I have returned to the city some weeks ago, but there hasn’t been much to report; my holiday at home was quite unremarkable when it comes to secrets, aside from the events I have already described to you. I had my heart’s fill of running in the empty fields and thick forests, and I was invigorated to the degree that staying awake during lectures is not hard at all, nor is studying scripture late into the night. I miss the island, for it’s the home of my soul, but perhaps I must suffer this separation in order to deserve a permanent reunion.

I received a letter from my eldest brother shortly upon arriving to the city, and seeing it set a sense of dread in me so strong that I very nearly didn’t open it. He has never before written to me, so you must understand that I expected bad news, but within the envelope I found a companionable letter. My astonishment couldn’t have been greater! Why would he be interested in me when he never has before? I responded to him in kind and - I will admit my scepticism to you, my friend - expect to find out what it is that he truly wants when he replies.

**10th of February, 1935**

Oh, friend! I must tell you of this right now, for I am shaken by emotion quite foreign to me. I encountered a young lady in the park today. She sat on a bench, reading, a brown lock of hair framing her face in a most endearing way, her lips pursed together in concentration. In a dash of boldness, I asked to sit with her, and what followed was the most engaging conversation I’ve had in months. 

Hours passed and I barely noticed, so enticing was Lilah’s company. Forgive me, I am rushing, but yes, her name is Lilah and she is but two years younger than me. As life would have it, we had to part by nightfall, but not before exchanging addresses with keen promises to keep in contact and meet again as soon as possible.

It is too early to see if the grey of her eyes shines in mine, but my confidant, I am confident this time it’s going to happen.

**15th of February, 1935**

Lilah wrote to me yesterday and I revelled in her penmanship and the content of the letter alike; is there a lovelier creature in existence than a beautiful woman with the gift of poetry? Sadly my ecstasy was short-lived as concerns took over; how can I court a woman? This affair with her is entirely out of the realm of my experience - I have always admired women and men alike, but ladies have been unattainable for me because of what I am. 

I may need to let you into my confidence further for you to fully understand, my friend, so forgive me if I go into a level of detail you are uncomfortable with - I assure you it’s only because it’s a necessity. 

While I physically resemble a human for the most part, and can very well pretend I am one, there are parts of me that I am unable to change. You understand which parts I speak of, I am sure. Because of this, I am chained to only one type of encounters with humans, and those are ones I can only have with men. Even then I will have to be very careful and give particulars on how I am to be touched and where; should I turn around and be seen in my full nudity, it would be all too easy to see that I am not one of them. 

Another matter you ought to know is that if I were to let someone know my secret and he or she would give themselves to me, I would link our bodies together whether it was my intention or not, and tie us in a bond that cannot be undone. 

Now that you understand my physiology better, I trust you see what pains me. This is why the colour of my eyes in lupine form matters so much, my friend; if I see them change, I know confiding in the object of my affections is a worthwhile goal. This is why I have only told you of affairs of one kind and neglected to mention women before - so far, this has been the only way I have attained the contact I so desperately need. 

**19th of February, 1935**

I have only just returned to my room, my dear friend, and I would like to tell you of the wonderful day I have had. I took Lilah on a stroll around the park, and we walked in a leisurely pace, laughing and smiling as we went. Her company is so delightful and I cannot help but crave more of it. But alas! The next we will be able to meet will be in March! Her parents insist upon her accompanying them to a neighbouring city for the next two weeks, as there are some family matters to attend to. 

I am at the peak of happiness that can be attained while I am surrounded by the smell of factories and the noise of cars, but if I am perfectly honest, there is a matter that weighs down on me even now - I have yet to turn and gaze in the looking glass. 

I don’t quite know why I hesitate so. I am fond of Lilah beyond belief, and this is surely what love must feel like, but what if I were mistaken? In what mournful depths would I find myself should I discover that she is not my heart’s chosen? There is not a creature in existence that could surpass her grace. 

I once again turn to my Lord for guidance, for his wisdom is greater than my own could ever be. 

**5th of March, 1935**

My confidant! I am ever so happy to share with you the good news - I finally dared a look in the mirror in my wulver form, and what did I see? Surely enough, the colour of my eyes has taken a sliver of Lilah’s grey in them! This, my friend, is what I had hoped all along, and looking back in time, I wonder what it was that made me feel so uncertain - it is clear as day that she is the woman for me, and I could not be happier.

I suspect she must have seen the joy in my eyes as I took her for lunch mere hours ago, and so it was that we laughed and joked the entire time, and for once there were few concerns that bothered me. There is, of course, the matter of her learning the truth about me, but I believe that should I court her in the most proper and gentle manner, she’ll find my beastly nature is of no consequence. 

My brother has responded to my letter, and what an elegant letter it was! I can scarcely believe it seems he’s siding with me against Father, but I would be a fool to turn down his offer of friendship; perhaps once he inherits the estate, I shall be welcomed home again with my bride by my side. 

Ah, I am getting ahead of myself, dear friend, but I hope you can forgive my optimism; it has been too long since the Sun has cast its warming rays on me. 

**6th of May, 1935**

I apologise, my confidant; there’s little time I’ve had to dedicate to you, and if I am honest with you, I’ll admit that holding you in my hand sometimes brings forth memories I would rather not think of. Things are going considerably well - my brother writes to me often, and our relationship has grown quite intimate. I even confided in him of my most delightful plan: I intend to propose to Lilah as soon as I am able - engagement rings are quite expensive, as I’m sure you know, and my allowance is meagre. I believe I shall have the money saved by the end of the month. But what pleasure it will be should she say yes! I have dreamt of this ever since my eyes showed a hint of her colours. 

Ah! I almost neglected to mention that my brother wishes that I should come home - that us both should visit! - when the semester is over; he has apparently spoken the matter over with Father already, but I have written to him for a permission anyway, and am now anxiously awaiting his response. If all goes well, I shall be engaged by the end of semester, and if all goes even better than expected, Lilah and I might spend some weeks on the island! 

I shall give you the news as soon as I know. I promise I shall not neglect you for much longer; I wish to fill you with happier secrets to outweigh the ones that make us both mournful. 

**19th of May, 1935**

My dear friend, it is with utmost joy that I write to inform you that Lilah has accepted my proposal and has thus made me the happiest man ever known! I knelt before her at the park where we first met, and if only you had seen her face then! I can scarcely believe the joy I felt as I slid the golden ring around her finger and embraced her - future Mrs. Vael! 

I am trying to think of ways on how to ease her into my confidence, for there can be no marriage unless we are both honest with one another... but my confidant! You cannot imagine what a fine girl she is; this will not be a problem for her - I am almost sure of that! For however beastly I may be at my core, all of my devotion belongs to her, and all my fierce power would be harnessed to protect her.

She is eager to spend some weeks with me on the island, but her mother insists upon sending a servant to accompany us to ensure our conduct leaves no room for indiscretions. It hardly matters, I find! We shall be ever so happy to walk the forests and sit at the beaches, feeling the sea air invigorate our souls as wind brushes through our hairs. If only Father would respond to me; we should be ready to leave in two weeks from now! 

The semester is coming to an end, and I, while having worked as hard as the circumstances have allowed, have not done my family name justice when it comes to grades and essays. I am certain, however, that little of it matters at this point; by marrying Lilah, I shan’t be a clergyman in any case, but will have to specialise in something else. Perhaps I should look into becoming a cantor? 

**1st of June, 1935**

Here I am, my dearest friend, writing to you on board a ship, yet again. Lilah reads beside me as we lounge on the deck of this vessel, and it is the finest day you have ever seen. Seagulls sing above us as we make way towards the island, and Jenny (Lilah’s servant) has been blissfully busy with her knitting. Little troubles us, aside from my fear that my strange family should drive away my sweet bride. I can only hope they will exhibit their best behaviour these coming weeks. 

Father responded to me shortly after I wailed to you the last time, and his letter was quite polite; not what I had expected. My brother told me in his correspondence that Father has been in great spirits as of late, and I almost find myself suspicious of such a development; what could possibly have him, the sourest of all people, in good humour?

I believe we shall find out soon enough, and I hope my bad feeling is just that; a feeling. 

**4th of June, 1935**

We’ve arrived safely at our destination. The entire family greeted us upon the docks, and from there we drove to our estate. It has all gone nicely; Mother has been quite taken with Lilah, and I suspect the feeling is mutual, for she had no objections when I left her in Mother’s company on the first night. Do not judge me, my friend, but I needed a dash through the forest in my true form - it has been months since I was last able! This time I avoided the part where I know the old lady to reside - she must not know about my bride, but why I feel so strongly on the matter is a mystery even to myself.

Conversations over dinner have been stilted between Father and I, but even he has been exceedingly courteous with Lilah; he speaks to her at every occasion, making sure she is included in our discussions, and all of this attention flatters my bride. She is impressed by the family estate and all its inhabitants, and I do not object to her opinions; my problems with my family ought not to weigh her. Perhaps it’s through her that I find a place in this house again - although that is not the purpose of our future union. 

We have strolled the gardens and even taken a turn in the woods that I hold so dear. I have yet to take her to the beach, but I believe that tomorrow I might, should the weather allow for it. She has asked me if we shall see the closest village someday soon, and I’ve struggled to explain that we do not visit it often (I do not wish to burden her with my family’s strange relationship with the villagers) and that our supplies are brought to the estate by the servants. I can only hope she will cease asking questions, for I only have awkward silence to respond with - there are many old feuds that originate from events that are unknown to me, so I could not tell her even if I wanted to. 

**7th of June, 1935**

I knew there was something sinister to Father’s strange behaviour, but I knew not to expect my brother to be a part of it, too! It occurred to me that Father thinks Lilah a fine bride for my eldest brother instead; he speaks of my brother with the noblest of words and tries to make sure that they spend time together without my presence there to distract her. What gave birth to such a cruel scheme, I do not know, but we must cut our visit short, for I cannot bear the thought of losing my beloved Lilah - even though I do not doubt her heart's allegiance, I worry my Father will stop at nothing to see his plans through.

I have booked our journey back to the city and we shall leave the day after tomorrow. It has been hard to explain this to Lilah without sounding like a lunatic, but my confidant, I hope you are more forbearing in nature - this is the first time I have known someone who belongs to me like I belong to them. How am I supposed to let go of her hand and see where the current takes her? I cannot - I will not! - let Father go through with his evil; my brother may believe he loves her, but he is hardly good enough to be in her presence. 

My friend, it may be that I shall write you again while in a ship, and I shall hope I’ll be in much better spirits if I do. Wish me good luck, my confidant. 

**10th of June, 1935**

The terror we have experienced knows no boundaries, my friend, for while Lilah and I are safely on our way back to the city, something has occurred that I shall never recover from. As expected, Father was furious upon our departure, but unlike the other times we have argued, he did so right before the general public - everyone at the docks could hear our heated exchange as Lilah and I were about to depart. 

Oh, the things he accused me of! You would not believe it! He lied to me, saying Lilah was to marry my brother and that she had agreed to it - no, she would never betray me like that - and that I was stealing her to myself. I can still hardly believe my ears! What terrible injustice - what terrible, cursed lies! 

Lilah is staring at the ocean, her form unmoving in her chair, and I can barely get a word out of her - so shaken is she. I do not know how to console her. I am sorry she learnt the dark side of my family this way, but I have vowed never to return, and neither will she. We shall live an honest, humble life in the city - or somewhere in its vicinity - and raise our children to be always truthful and loyal. I am resigned to never seeing my family again, and if I were able, I would gladly renounce my last name. 

**14th of June, 1935**

We have arrived to the safety of the city and gone our separate ways for the duration of a few days; Lilah is in terrible need of her family, and I will admit that I am in need of time to calm myself. I have taken to studying in the library, for while this career pursuit is for nought, I find calm in sacred texts, and solace in the Words of our Lord. 

I saw Jack in the hallway last night, and while I was surprised he hasn’t travelled home for the summer vacation, I was even more surprised to discover that I felt not a twinge of desire when his eyes rested on me. These months with Lilah have taught me the difference between lust and love; I have, in the past, been so consumed by the former that I’ve given no chance for the bliss the latter can offer. Perhaps what I needed all along was the calm companionship only true love can provide. Perhaps the touch I need can come in many forms; a caress on my cheek, a playful hand on my shoulder, an affectionate hug… 

It is not quite the same, but it is just as lovely and just as needed. I look forward to meeting Lilah again, for the time draws near when I must confide in her and truly test her loyalties. I can only hope and pray that the incident with my family hasn’t put me out of her favour. 

**7th of July, 1935**

It has all gone terribly, terribly wrong, my confidant, and I can only bring myself to write to you now. The paths of my beloved and I have parted; my secret proved too much for her to bear. She laughed in disbelief as I confided in her, but as I transformed, her glee turned to tears and giggles into shrieks. It was with great trouble that I was able to soothe her enough for us to talk about it, but no words I said could change her mind; I am an abomination in the eyes of the Lord, and therefore she would not marry me. 

She would have nothing to do with me, she said, and pressed her golden band to my palm. She swore to keep my secret, but with the condition that I would never again contact her in any way. As she walked through the door, as Jack had done less than a year ago, my heart sank and fell apart.

My friend - my only friend, for that is who you are again - I can scarcely relate this news to you now, even though it has been a fortnight since this occurred, and I must again apologise for the tears on your fine paper. I do not know how to even begin processing grief of this level, but I believe some answers lie within the Holy Bible. I shall open it now and seek out the passages that warm my heart, even if these eyes can only barely see through the tears.

**1st of September, 1935**

It was wise, in hindsight, that I left no letter of resignation to my place of study, for it seems I shall become a priest, after all. Humans no longer tempt me, be they men or women, and my core is frozen for all but one; the Lord and His Holy Son. It is with renewed interest that I study His Word - and not only for the benefit for my own wretched soul, but so that I can bring forth His Word in places where it is most sorely needed. If I can go on without Lilah and my family, I can most certainly continue my friendless existence and put my faith in His plan, for there must be one. 

The Lord would not have me suffer so if there was no reason; I have been uprooted, I have been abandoned, and I have been forgotten. With His favour, however, I can make my existence count by taking my place in some small parish and leading a flock on the path of righteousness. 

I will give my utmost to please Him and ignore my worldly desires; I have walked that path and it is one that leads to nothing but sorrow. His road is narrow and straight, but if my steps are steady, the reward at the end shall be unimaginable bliss. I belong only to Him, now, and none may take Him from me.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos make my day! <3


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